The Sound of a Leaf

I sat up in my orchard, with cocoa cup in hand.

My husband and my youngest son were roaming nearby land.

The ‘Wees’ (those Tennessean pups) were running here and there,

And Stevie-cat took swipes at them as they passed by his chair.

The dew was heavy on the ground.  The sun peeked over hill.

The trees—their colors riotous—gave eyes and soul a thrill.

My ears could hear the quiet sounds of man and man-boy talk,

As they discussed the forest, on their early morning walk.

And as I smiled and listened to the puppies and the ‘boys’

I once again discovered how this farm has brought me joy.

With face upturned to feeble sun, I heard a quiet sound…

As leaf detached from maple branch and floated to the ground.

How many places in this world can humans still discern

That sound—unique and beautiful—that happens when leaves turn

From shades of green and emerald, which they’ve dressed in since their birth—

To red and orange-- which they wear-- ‘til falling back to earth?

Some things are worth protecting.  Some things are just too rare

To justify complacency.  To say “I do not care.”

This part of Maine is quiet and there’s natural dark above.

To me, it’s worth an effort to safeguard what I love.

As someone who craves peacefulness—nonetheless, I found

That sometimes it’s essential to speak and stand your ground.

For ‘comfort zones’ exist, I think, for seeing if we dare

To step ‘outside’ and see just what we’ll do-- to prove we care.

If I am not successful here, then soon will come the day

When trees with golden foliage cannot be heard to say,

“Alas, I’ve done my duty.  I’ve given it my best.

“I’m falling now—just listen! as I glide to earth to rest.”